Not Unnoticed
by wallofcrazy
Summary: Sherlock is apprehensive of Watson's reaction to his latest endeavor.


**I do not own Elementary.**

**Be advised that English is not my first language, so...**

"Watson, I need your assistance with something on the terrace."

"Just a minute," she said with a raised voice so he could hear from upstairs. So much for a quiet night in, she thought as she put the book she's been reading aside. She couldn't complain though, since he had given her, well, them, the day off. As per what she overheard from his conversation with Gregson the day before, they would be working on a private (read: inexistent) case today. In the morning, when she asked him if the captain or Bell had called, he just denied with his head, without looking at her.

She wasn't sure of his reasons, although she had a pretty good idea. Either way, she wasn't going to complain.

"What is it, Sherlock?" She asked when she's reached the top floor of their home.

"Ah, Watson, excellent, you're here."

He was vibrant. Hands moving, feet together motioning his body forward and backwards. But at the same time, Joan noticed, he seemed… hesitant? What has this man done this time?

In the few seconds she's had since getting up there, she looked around and saw that everything seemed to be in place. No balls being blown up. The hives were where they've always been, the air was cool, pleasantly cool. The sky starry.

She was interrupted from her thoughts and observations when in a flash Sherlock positioned himself behind her, conducing her body towards the edge of rooftop.

"Not another air-conditioner experiment, I hope." When he didn't respond, she inquired, "Sherlock?"

All of a sudden he's become stiff, still. There was definitely something off.

"Sherlock, what is it? You didn't drag me up here to watch something fall, did you?"

He looked at his watch, "Of course, not, Watson. You're about to find out."

And then, it was there. A spectacle of colors and forms exploding right in front of her eyes. Suddenly they had their own "private" pyrotechnic show with a boat serving as stage. Glimmer and sparkles growing brighter with each blast lightening up the night sky.

A couple of minutes later, when it was finished, she turned around to look at him. He was rigid, hands in his pockets, eyes expectantly on her. He was trying to make out her reaction, she realized.

"Sherlock?" She called his name, head tilted to the side, voice softer than usual, quieter. "This," she waved behind her, "Were you responsible for what just happened?"

The expression on his face told her what she already knew, and no one, _no one_, in her entire life, had gone through such extent to make something like that for her birthday, or ever. Sure, he had named a new species of bees after her, but, what just took place, what she just witnessed, this was something else entirely.

"I," he stammered, "I, you see, I didn't know if this was adequate. If it was too much, but I thought, I thought, you deserved something special. Flowers are too mundane. Going out to your favorite restaurant, once again ordinary. Plus it went against your wishes for _a quiet night in with a book, just enjoying the little things_, I believe were your exact words. -"

"You heard me on the phone with my mother." She interrupted him.

He didn't say anything.

"Of course you did." She added nodding.

"-Buying you a present," he continued, "I know you very well, but I didn't know what,"

"Sherlock, you don't have to exp-"

"Except that I do," he pleaded, "Allow me to finish," he said in an almost defeated tone. And she assented.

"I simply couldn't come up with anything you might have had wanted. I even thought of hiring someone to paint your room, or doing it myself, but it is my understanding that that place has become your sanctum sanctorum and I didn't want to intrude."

She snorted.

He proceeded, "Yes, the irony is not lost on me. I could have gotten Ms. Hudson to cook you something elaborated, but it would quickly escalate into a party, again, against your desires. And this, the fireworks, I, I ran into a friend who happens to have a permit to deal with them, so it clicked and I knew what I had to do because what I couldn't do was to let this day go by without you knowing how much you being here alive means to me. I heard you talking with your mother on the phone, but I couldn't not do anything. So I had to do something while respecting the desires I overheard."

"Eavesdropped."

He was intently looking at her, still trying to gauge her reaction. One would think it'd be even easier to read someone you share a home with. Blank.

And suddenly, she took a step forward, her hands reaching each side of his face bringing him closer, his body relaxing at her motion, her eyes now teary. She then joined their lips in a brief, thankful kiss. After a few seconds, they separated, his right arm now encircling her lower back. Her hands embracing him. A sigh escaped his mouth. She rested her head below his chin, and vocalized her gratitude in a soft, heartfelt, "Thank you."

He kissed the top of her head, and she felt him handling something behind her back. She turned around and saw it, a cupcake, with a single candle on the top. One he must have sneaked to the balcony during the fireworks. This unbelievable, wonderful man.

He offered her the baked good, and she took it from his hand. He then reached for his pocket and grabbed a lighter. Her back still pressed at his front, his left hand now around her lower abdomen. With his right he lit the candle, dropped his head to her shoulder, and said in the most quiet tone she's ever heard him use, "Your existence deserves to be celebrated, my dearest Watson. Happy Birthday."


End file.
